


wicked mind, wicked life, wicked wife

by wolfangs



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Canon who???, Corruption, F/F, Gen, Mentor/Protégé, Murder Wives, Seduction to the Dark Side, grey morality, is that a thing?, mmm psychopathic woman, nobody asked for this but me, to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfangs/pseuds/wolfangs
Summary: Jonathan finds Thelma on the brink of death, having been attacked by the Guard of Priwen, and decides to turn her into a vampire. Thelma loses herself to bloodlust, though, and is sent to live with Lady Ashbury to get accustomed to her new life. They both get much more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Elisabeth Ashbury & Jonathan Reid, Elisabeth Ashbury & Thelma Howcroft, Elisabeth Ashbury/Thelma Howcroft, Thelma Howcroft & Jonathan Reid
Kudos: 5





	wicked mind, wicked life, wicked wife

Whitechapel stood silent as featherlight flakes of snow fell from the heavy clouds covering the night sky. The footsteps Jonathan left behind disappeared almost immediately under the fresh snow after they left their imprint. The snow trailing the streets of the district was illuminated by the street lanterns, and it shone bright white, almost blinding in the dark night. It was a cold night, the coldest there had been in weeks. Frost particles floated in the crisp air, and the streets were eerily empty. 

The doctor had just finished his nightly round. There were few Guards of Priwen guarding the streets tonight, and all the skals that had the mental capacity to know what was best for them had retrieved to the safety of the sewers from the harsh weather conditions. The wind was stronger than usual and it hurled past Jonathan howling like a wolf, sending a whiff of snow his way. 

Though the cold air barely had any effect on Jonathan at all, he was still tired. So tired his eyes stung, throat hurt, bones ached. The amount of blood he’d lost while fighting was great, and the exhaustion in his limbs was dragging him down. He’d had to fight some poor maddened skals, and they’d certainly got to him. He hadn’t exactly been nourishing himself lately. He needed to make his way back to the hospital. It would be morning soon.

He was turning a corner in the outskirts of the district when he heard something from the shadows. 

“Help me, Doctor”, a woman’s voice wailed, her whisper clear as a bell in the dark stillness. A figure stumbled forward from the shadows, and as she approached, Jonathan immediately caught the scent of fresh blood. His fangs tingled and all his senses told him to lunge forward, but he knew better than to let his instincts get the better of him.

When the woman’s form was lit by the street, Jonathan recognised her to be Thelma Howcroft. She looked paler than she’d ever looked, and her face was hollowed out like a skull. Her hospital gown draped over her boney figure like a tent. She looked like a skeleton. “They got me”, she whispered as she fell forward onto the thin snow. Jonathan instinctively reached forward and got a hold of her before she touched the ground. 

His gloved hands came into contact with the blood pouring from her wounds, and my, was it such a wicked temptation. She was seriously wounded: she’d been cut, slashed, stabbed, hit and kicked. Even the wounds he couldn’t see, he  _ felt. _ The veins under her skin that had broken, streaming blood to the surface of her skin, the bent ribs that were tasked to protect the heart now being the very ones to threaten it. Though he felt sickened by the thought, it took him all his willpower not to listen to the feral beast inside of him and throw Thelma aside like a ragdoll and devour her blood right there, on the street where a few curious pairs of eyes would surely wander.

“It’s all right now. I have you”, he soothed as he braced her on the brick wall of the building lining the street. He blinked and took in a deep breath, trying to ground himself. It didn’t help: all that filled his nostrils was the sickeningly delicious, thick scent of blood. He returned his attention to the dying woman and to  _ saving  _ her, not draining her.

It took only a few seconds for the doctor to assess her severe wounds and conclude she would, inevitably, die of them in a matter of minutes. There was no use in getting her to the hospital, it was already overstacked with patients and the staff had no capacity to handle such an emergency at this moment. She wouldn’t have made it that far, anyway.

Jonathan knew there was a decision to make. It was one he didn’t feel he had the right to make, but it was life or death. He could either let her suffer and die an excruciatingly painful death, albeit a natural one, or... He could turn her. Truly make her into the horrible creature she’d already thought she was before. He would be buying into her delusions, twisting her mind and perception of reality into impossibilities, mere fairy tales. It could trigger a switch in her brain that could render her irreversibly insane. 

But her mind had already adjusted to that thought, hadn’t it? The reality of that of supernatural creatures. She had always wholeheartedly thought she was something more than human, a beast made of cruelty and night. She had always been aware of their existence, even if the creatures weren’t exactly what she’d pictured in her broken mind.

Would he be breaking her further? Or would he be saving her, finally freeing her of her own delusions? If he turned her, would she go around town announcing her new status as an immortal being, challenging others to fight her for her own twisted amusement? Or would she ravage the streets as a savage, bloodthirsty sewer beast, the rotting flesh of the dead stuck between her crooked teeth?

Jonathan could not be sure. But if any of these realities were to come true, he would stop them in their tracks. He knew he could. He had the power, the capability, the connections. 

And so he bit down on his own wrist, let the thirsty woman feed. Which she did. Her instincts drove her, and somehow she knew exactly what she had to do. She grabbed onto his wrist with surprising strength despite her state and gulped his blood down eagerly, almost greedily, like it was water of the purest form and she hadn’t had a drop in days. Thelma’s cold, frozen bare fingers dug into the skin and bone of Jonathan’s arm desperately, as if the doctor would disappear into thin air if she even slightly relieved her grip. 

Some of the doctor’s blood missed Thelma’s mouth and instead spilled down onto her lap and the snow beneath her in hot drops, melting small hollows into the snowbank in its trail. Jonathan felt drowsy, lightheaded as his own essence drained out of him. It was strange, being in the place of the victim instead of the perpetrator. 

Finally, she seemed to have had enough. Her lips trembled, eyes rolled back into her head. In pleasure or disgust, Jonathan did not know. She quivered and sighed in what seemed like relief just before she started coughing violently. The doctor backed away and watched in horror as she choked and choked until she could no longer take in a breath, lungs failing. Finally, she fell down against the wall, limp and lifeless.

Jonathan gently took her limp body in his hold, one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. He deliberated whether or not he’d made the right decision after all, but slipped away into the shadows with her nevertheless. 

***

When Thelma woke, her body and mind both ached with an unexplainable hunger. All she saw was red, red streaks, red blots clouding her vision no matter where she looked. It was overwhelming, blinding, to say the least. Her mouth was drier than it had ever been, and her stomach ached to be filled. With what, she wasn’t sure. She was hungry for something so specific, but she didn’t know what. 

She barely registered what had happened to her, barely noticed she was in an office unfamiliar. In a trance-like state, she threw off the thick blanket that had been set on top of her, sat up on the stiff mattress and dropped down onto the cold floor. Her bare feet led her to the door leading out of the room without her even realizing where she was headed. She opened the door, and barely registered she  _ knew _ these hallways. The fluorescent lights hurt her eyes, so she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. 

What was it that she wanted? Why had she gone from the comfort of her nest into the achingly bright world? Why had she, indeed… 

But when she smelled it again, she knew all too well why. Even if she wasn’t aware of what  _ this _ was exactly, she knew she needed to follow the familiar scent. She clumsily stumbled down the stairs into the oddly empty reception lobby. Where would he be? 

In his bed, of course. Like he always was. He'd always been so good to her. His blood... It had always relieved her. And so it should again. 

She parted the curtain Thomas had closed for his own privacy and stepped in. She loomed over him, watching his sleeping figure drowsily as the scent of his sweet blood filled her nostrils, clouded her mind and all coherent thought she had left. It was all too good to resist. So good. Too good.  _ So. Good. _

She climbed on top of him and felt something sharp poking at her bottom lip. She breathed in deep once more, relishing in the experience before she grabbed at his hair violently, pushing his face aside to provide her proper access to his neck. Thomas woke, but Thelma paid that no mind. 

She leaned down calm and collected as Thomas started struggling under her grip, to no purpose. When she finally bit down, her fangs sunk into Thomas’ feeble throat with surprising ease. His warm blood filled her mouth, and the sensation filled her body with ecstasy. It was warm like honey, gratifying like ambrosia. Overwhelming waves of pleasure took over her body, and that was all she could focus on. It was a sensation she’d never experienced before, and it drowned out everything else in its way. The screams of pain seemed distant, the writhing in agony inconsequential. None of it mattered.

The ferocious woman drank, biting deeper into the man’s throat and tearing muscle. She could feel the blood bursting under her mouth, spilling everywhere and wetting her neck, seeping into her hospital gown. She gulped and licked greedily the blood that flowed from Thomas’ jugular vein in short bursts, until his pulse was no more. She lapped at the blood until the flow stopped and pulled away from his neck. She sat up on his lap, disappointed that it all had come to a stop. She was panting, the blood she had just spilled tingling her insides. 

Blood dripped from her chin in heavy drops, staining her gown even more. Thelma wiped her mouth with her hand and licked the fingers dry. When her fangs cut open the skin of her fingers, she licked the wound, too. The hunger inside her had finally,  _ finally _ subsided. All she felt was pure serenity. 

Even when she realized the heaviness of her action, she couldn’t bring herself to care. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of, ever wanted, after all. And Thomas was nothing but a cog in the machinations of her becoming. He had helped her become her true self, and to her that seemed more important than whatever it was he would’ve done with his life.

She climbed down from the hospital bed, discarding Thomas’ body and leaving it to lie lifeless for someone else to find. She stepped out from behind the curtain, thoughts still hazy. She took a few steps, wobbling still from the impact of her high, and made her way out of the hospital. She breathed in the crisp air of London and walked right out of the gates, barely registering at all the fact that there was another person near, watching her departure. 

“Ms. Howcroft, what in the world..?“ started Dr. Corcoran Tippets, approaching Thelma before he fully took in her bloody appearance and feral demeanor. “My God”, he stuttered, stumbling backwards in terror. He tripped on seemingly nothing and fell backwards on the cobbled street. What a silly, pathetic little thing. It amused her. She felt a surge of that same hunger yet again, but it wasn’t as prevalent as the first time, no. This time she could fully control it. She could have chosen not to act out. But oh, she wanted to, desperately. 

So she did.

She calmly approached the doctor, who was frozen in fear, and pushed him to the ground with her foot on the man’s chest. She then surged at him, nearly pouncing on top of him and pinning the wretched being to the ground by his head. The sound of his blood coursing through his veins was so bewitching it was practically calling to her, singing her name, the glorious melody filling her ears. She would take his  _ joie de vivre _ and claim it, make it her own, delight in the feeling of triumph it would grant her. But before she could…

“Ms. Howcroft! Stop!” she heard from behind her. She could tell it was Dr. Jonathan Reid without even turning around. She quickly climbed aside from on top of Dr. Tippets, knowing she would not survive tonight if she did not paint herself to be a damsel in distress. Men adored women in need of help, didn’t they? Helping them gave them the good old feeling of being the saviour of the day.

“D-Doctor”, she pleaded, fabricating a facade of regret and shock. “I don’t know what happened”, she lied, running to the younger doctor to embrace him tight, like a child seeking consolation. “It's alright, Thelma. It's alright", he soothed. "Don’t worry. It’s okay. I’ll make it all right again”, Jonathan promised, responding to the woman’s embrace and petting her hair. His chest ached. Another life almost lost because of him.

Jonathan carefully let go of Thelma, who was practically clinging to him, and kneeled beside the near-unconscious Dr. Tippets. He was trembling in fear, beads of cold sweat forming at his hairline. Poor man. Jonathan charmed him to forget as well as he could, and told the older doctor to go back to his shift and duties. He seemed to be alright, but… Something needed to be done about Thelma.

***

“You’ll be safe here. Lady Ashbury will teach you everything you need to know. She’ll take care of you until you’re ready. I’ll visit whenever I can. You are my responsibility, after all”, Jonathan told Thelma before knocking on Elizabeth’s door. Thelma didn’t reply, just stared down. She didn’t need to be taught. She already knew she would be more powerful than the two combined, if only she had the chance. But she could do it. She could pretend everything was okay, that she was okay. 

The door opened, and a gorgeous woman with fiery red hair appeared at the doorway. “Evening”, Lady Ashbury greeted. “Welcome. Please come in, Ms. Howcroft”, she continued and stepped aside to open the door wider. She looked completely normal, human. There was no sign of vampirism in her eyes or skin. She wasn't even that pale, for God's sake. Thelma wondered how that could be. 

“This is where I leave you”, Jonathan said, nodding to Lady Ashbury. “Good luck.” 

Thelma stepped inside and admired the interior of the mansion. It was atmospheric and warm, filled with expensive furniture, decor and paintings. It was the fanciest thing she had ever seen. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 


End file.
